


Truce over Yonder

by AStandardName



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:28:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27721420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AStandardName/pseuds/AStandardName
Summary: Bruce Wayne is a Deputy US Marshal, and has been chasing his quarry Selina Kyle for a spell, but today, he feels luck is on his side and he's caught up to her.
Relationships: Selina Kyle & Bruce Wayne, Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	Truce over Yonder

As the afternoon shadows lengthened and the sun kissed the horizon as a lone figure slowly rode the dusty road down the valley into town. The figure, cloaked in a jet black duster and a matching black Stetson hat rode at a slow pace, trail-dust caked along his jacket and duster, a United States Marshal’s badge adorned his lapel.

Deputy US Marshal Bruce Wayne, slowly trotted along the trail, coming up to a wooden sign carefully painted with the towns name; Yonder.

As he rode, his thumb brushed over the Smith & Wesson six-gun holstered at his waist. With a practiced flick, he drew the revolver and twirled it in the air before bringing it to rest and opening the revolver and blowing any dust from the cylinder and hammer.

Satisfied, he closed up his revolver and with a flourish slid it back into the holster. Deputy Marshal Wayne; Bruce to his friends was thirsty, and tired from three days ride in chase of his quarry; a most baffling quarry, a woman by the name of Selina Kyle. Not to say Bruce had never pursued or captured women fugitives before, but never for crimes that could easily put her in the category of a bandit. Crimes like stagecoach robbery, bank robbery and even jailbreak.

Bruce had been chasing this quarry now for over two months, yet never having lain eyes on her once. Yet, at every turn she was baffling to him. Her targets always seems to have some connection to the C.W Mining Company; lockboxes, workers’ wages and even a train robbery in which a load of coal had ‘inadvertently’ been cut loose.

Given the reputation of the C.W Mining Company on the frontiers, Bruce was almost starting to sympathise. C.W Mining was ruthless on the frontier; burning homesteaders, back water executions, looting and bribery were all alleged.

Slowly trotting through the single street town, Bruce made straight for the saloon. He took his horse around the side to the corral and paid for his horse to be looked after, fed and watered.

Bruce walked slowly along the wooden planks in front of the saloon, his stirrups rattling with each step. He looked into the saloon, staring over the swinging batwing doors* _(Saloon doors, also known as batwing doors)_ , but quickly turned and walked along the wooden veranda, passing a general store and a private residence before coming to a stop outside the Sheriff’s office.

“Evening sheriff” said Bruce, stepping through the open door into the sheriff’s office. Bruce raised his hand to the brim of his hat out of respect.

“Marshal” mumbled the Sheriff through a mouthful of chewing tobacco. “Wha’ brin’s ya over Yonder” he asked, before spitting into a nearby mop bucket.

“Chasing a Federal fugitive” said Bruce looking at the townsfolk through the window, “just thought I’d pay my respects before I went to work.”

The Sheriff took a long time to reply, chewing loudly as he sized up the Marshal clad in black. “S’long as there’s no gunplay on my streets Marshal, ‘ave at it” he mumbled, once again spitting into the bucket that Bruce was starting to suspect would be used to mop the already filthy floors later.

“No gunplay Sheriff” agreed Bruce before stepping back into the street, leaving the Sheriff to lean back into his chair and raising his boots onto his desk with a weary groan.

Bruce stood motionless outside the threshold of the Sheriff’s Office. Townsfolk whispered and stared, some even pointed as the tall Deputy US Marshal turned and walked back along the veranda to the saloon. Passing two whispering ladies, Bruce dipped his hat in respect and continued on to the saloon, this time crossing through the batwing doors.

As soon as his boot hit the saloon floor the pianist chose his moment to begin playing a cheerful ditty. Bruce smirked as all eyes in the saloon turned to the piano, rather than him. His stirrups rattled on the wooden floorboards as he crossed to the bar and stood before the Saloonkeeper who bore a magnificent if un-kempt beard.

“Wha’dlya’av” said the Saloonkeeper, his words slurring together, perhaps showing how long he’d been operating a Saloon.

“Whiskey. The good stuff if you have it” said Bruce reaching into his pocket for some coin, “and a room for the night.”

“Be a dollar for the room, and fifteen cents for a glass of the good stuff” said the Saloonkeeper stoically as he reached under the bar and retrieved a bottle of Scotch whiskey.

Bruce slapped a dollar twenty on the bar top and the Saloonkeeper nodded, retrieving a glass and began pouring what Bruce might call a stingy portion for twenty cents. The Saloonkeeper picked up the money and replaced it with a key, the tag read Room 2.

“Up the stairs, on yer left” said the Saloonkeeper turning his back to the Marshal and took up the old tradition of Saloonkeepers who no longer want conversation and began polishing glasses. Bruce with a smile of understanding took up the glass whiskey and slowly sipped at it as he looked up into the mirror behind the bar.

His eyes, traced the silhouette of each person, one by one. A card game was taking place by the large windows in the corner of the room. The pianist was enjoying playing to his adoring crowd of one. A group were sat around a table not far from the bar having a discussion, the depth of which was lost on Bruce.

Standing out with an obviousness a small child could identify was a woman sitting alone at a corner table, ostensibly wearing widow’s weeds, veil and all. Bruce sipped his whiskey as she sipped at a glass of what Bruce could only assume was gin. Even through the black veil Bruce could feel her eyes burning into his in the reflection of the mirror.

Just to see what would happen, Bruce switched the glass to his off hand and dropped his hand limply to his side, letting it brush past the grip of his Smith & Wesson. In an instant the lady in black’s posture became rigid as he saw her hand in her lap shift to what Bruce could only assume was her gun.

With a smirk on his face, Bruce turned and strolled confidently over to the corner table and sat down his glass. “May I?” asked Bruce already sliding into an empty seat opposite the lady in black.

“If I had said no?” asked the woman with a playful voice.

“I’m far too charming for that” said Bruce matching her tone. Through her veil Bruce could practically see her roll her eyes.

A pregnant pause was left between the pair as pianist stood and took a bow to his adoring fan before returning to his station to play a more sombre song.

“A much more fitting song, don’t you think Marshal?” asked the lady in black.

“How is that Miss Kyle?” replied Bruce taking a sip of his whiskey, his hand low at his waist. The lady didn’t so much as flinch as she raised a hand from her own glass and lifted the veil and tucked it over her head.

Bruce took a moment to trace the lines in her face. Most certainly her beauty had not been mis-reported; a fact which almost disappointed Bruce. He traced her soft brown eyes, her full cheeks and soft looking lips. He leaned closer to the table, his hand sliding along the back of his duster where he kept his much smaller Colt Lightning.

“More fitting for the death of a cocky Marshal” she answered, her hand cocking her nickel plated Webley British Bulldog.

“Well, we are certainly going to leave a Saloon full of baffled people” said Bruce, his smile dissolving instantly as he cocked back the hammer on his Colt. Both having drawn their pistols and cocked them under the table. “When two patrons gun each other down over drinks.”

“You could get up and walk away” said Selina with a glare.

Bruce thought for a moment, pausing to sip his whiskey. “Or you could put your gun on the table and—“

“And you could drag me to a prison cell to be hanged?” interrupted Selina. “No offence, Marshal..?”

“Wayne.”

“No offence Marshal Wayne, but I’d rather take my chances on your aim.”

“Its Deputy Marshal” corrected Bruce, “and I don’t believe at this range, the odds favour either of us.”

“So be it” said Selina with a hard look in her eyes as she finished her gin with one swig. Bruce likewise gave a nod and downed his whiskey as the sombre music played throughout the room, all the patrons entirely unaware of the stand-off happening under their eyes.

Selina placed her glass down on the table and braced for the end of the song, seemingly decided as the end point of this confrontation.

Placing his glass on the table next to hers, Bruce let out a sigh as the burn of the alcohol warmed his chest. The pianist had sweat beading on his forehead as the intensity of the melody increased, sweeping into a crescendo.

Bruce’s eyes narrowed, as he aimed for her heart; a clean kill. His heartbeat rocked evenly in his chest as he stared down the woman opposite him. He had wanted to ask her questions. He had questions that burned him every night before he slept since he began his long hunt.

The song finished with a slow meandering dirge until finally the pianist stood and received the applause from his fan as well as a polite clap from a few other patrons.

The pair at the table in the corner remained seated, their guns un-fired.

“So. I have a suggestion” said Bruce, letting out a breath at the anti-climax.

“I’m listening” said Selina, her heart hammering a harsh pace in her chest.

“Truce. Until noon tomorrow” said Bruce, “that gives you from sun-up to get as far from here before I make pursuit.”

Selina took in a deep calming breath as she stared down the man in front of her. He was tall and lean, but his imposing nature did not betray weakness. His face was handsome, with a strong jaw line with dark green eyes that seem to bore into her. What struck her the most was the way he melted from charming gunslinger into terrifying bounty-killer in an instant. This was not Selina’s first show-down, and in each one she had learned people betray themselves when their back is against a wall.

But there were no signs of this with Deputy Marshal Wayne, no sweat beading on his forehead. His pulse was not hammering in his neck. His hands didn’t shake, nor did he backtrack or offer apology, he merely sat and awaited the appointed moment when they were each to fire their guns and meet their maker.

“How can I trust you?” asked Selina, a note of playfulness returning to her voice.

Bruce for his part raised an eyebrow, thinking what words he could say to give sway to his promise of not pursuing her arrest until noon tomorrow. With a shrug and tilt of his head he slid the hammer forwards on his Colt Lightning and with a practiced ease slid it into the holster at the small of his back.

“And how do you know you can trust me?” asked Selina, her voice now returning to her former playfulness.

Bruce gave a grin before removing his hat and placing it on the table between them, his hair matted a little to his head. “I’ve been pursuing you a while Miss Kyle” he answered.

“I’m flattered” smirked Selina batting her eye-lashes.

“And in the time you’ve been about the business of robbery, I can’t find anyone who would testify to the fact that you’re cold blooded” finished Bruce with a sincere smile.

“Maybe you’ve misjudged Marshal” said Selina.

“Deputy Marshal” corrected Bruce.

Selina rolled her eyes as she de-cocked her Webley and slid it into the hidden pocket of her widows dress. “Buy a girl a drink then Deputy Marshal?” she asked.

“Gladly” said Bruce with a smile that reached his eyes.

***

“So, are you a widower Miss Kyle? Have I been mis-addressing you?” asked Bruce dividing the last of the bottle of whiskey into the two glasses before sliding Selina’s over to her.

“You know damn well I’m not a widower” smiled Selina before snatching up the glass and swallowing its contents whole. “Is that your plan Deputy Marshal? Get me so drunk I forget to wake before the deadline for our pursuit and probable demise?”

“I fear your tolerance for this whiskey is greater than mine, if anyone is offered a handicap it is yourself” said Bruce.

Selina swayed slightly, closing one eye to focus on the Deputy Marshal opposite her. The saloon was swinging as most, if not all of the townsfolk were in having a drink of their own.

“Tell me again how a man from wealth such as you comes to be a Marshal...” said Selina pausing, “...a Deputy Marshal” she corrected.

Bruce shook his head regretting his comment about the quality of whiskey not being to his taste; a string at which Selina had pulled until his family’s personal fortune became the topic of conversation.

“That, Miss Kyle is a personal question” said Bruce with an apologetic smile.

“Selina. Please, don’t make me say it again” said Selina narrowing her eyes in pretend annoyance.

“Nevertheless Selina, it's personal” repeated Bruce.

“For a man who hours ago were to send me to my maker, it seems senseless to hold anything personal” probed Selina.

Bruce paused, with the glass to his lips as his memory hit him. The smell of cordite mixed in with piss. The way his parents blood pooled together and got all over his shoes.

Selina felt a pang of regret as she looked at the lost look on Bruce’s face. “Marshal, I...” said Selina, words failing her.

“My parents were wealthy and afforded me a comfortable youth” said Bruce slowly, his tone in sharp contrast to the loud music and laughter that filled the saloon. “When I was twelve they were both gunned down in front of me. I was taken in by the Deputy Marshal who hunted down and killed the man who did it” explained Bruce drinking back his whiskey.

“So, you became a Marshal too” said Selina with a nod of understanding.

“Deputy Marshal” corrected Bruce with a bittersweet grin. Selina rolled her eyes as she stared at the empty bottle of whiskey, memories of her own youth flooding back to her making her take in a sharp inhale. “Selina?” asked Bruce noticing the shift in her expression.

“Nothing. It’s nothing” waved off Selina, “just lost in memories.”

Bruce nodded in understanding as he turned and waved over the saloonkeeper and paid for another bottle of whiskey. The pair sat in silence as the saloonkeeper worked his way around the tables and eventually brought another bottle of ‘quality’ whiskey.

Selina shifted in her seat, staring at her drinking companion. She felt a warm wave of contentment filling her as he made to business of filling their glasses.

“I do have one thing I would like to know” said Bruce, sliding her glass across the table to her.

“Fire when ready Deputy Marshal” answered Selina with a sardonic smile.

Bruce gave a wry smile, “tell me why you’re out here, making a business of robbery? What has C.W Mining Company got to do with it?” he asked.

Pausing to drink down a measure of whiskey Selina stared him in the eyes, “Because those bastards deserve everything coming to them... and more” she answered. “Surely you’re not blind to what they’re doing out here Marshal.”

“No. Not blind” said Bruce with a sad smile, “But it not within the scope of the US Marshal Service to be—“

“Fuck that” snapped Selina. “Truce be damned, ride out with me tomorrow and I’ll show you what those bastards are doing all over this territory.”

“Miss Kyle... Selina, my job is to bring you back to face trial. Dead, or alive” replied Bruce, “Men are already assigned to protect this territory.”

“Bought men” corrected Selina with a grimace.

“Bought men” agreed Bruce.

Silence once more drifted between them as they each stared at their glasses, unsatisfied with imperfect answers. Bruce, turned his head up to look at his companion, even through the alcoholic haze he saw the sadness written across Selina’s face.

“I’m sorry” mumbled Bruce.

“Me too Marshal” replied Selina, her eyes staring into his.

“Bruce. My friends call me Bruce” said Bruce.

“I don’t have friends” said Selina with a wry grin.

“Me either” said Bruce with a frown as he cast his mind back over the past years of his life. “Maybe one.”

The pair shared a soft smile that reached their eyes as they finished their glass of whiskey. Bruce grinned as he offered Selina another glass. She nodded and the pair continued to drink and talk into the late night.

Slowly the saloon emptied. The cards were left shuffled, left in the middle of the table in the opposite corner and the saloonkeeper was giving heavy hints to the Marshal and the Widower drinking heavily in the corner that they needed to retire.

Much to his relief he watched the Widower stand and grab the empty glasses and bottle and nodded her head to the stairs, mouthing something he couldn’t hear over what he hoped was the final encore of his overpaid pianist.

He watched as the Marshal stood up, swaying slightly as he replaced his hat and followed the Widower up the stairs. The saloonkeeper shrugged, who was he to judge was.

***

“Hey Bruce” slurred Selina dropping back onto his bed before shuffling up to the pillows. “You were going to shoot me under that table, weren’t you?”

“In a heartbeat” replied Bruce locking the door and throwing the key onto a side table. He shrugged off his duster and hung it up on a hook along with his hat. He turned back to see Selina had drawn her Webley from her concealed pocket and was aiming it at a lamp against the opposite wall.

“Good” she replied, pleased she had a good measure of the man. She watched as he unbuckled his gunbelt and hung it up on a hook by the door. He slid his Smith & Wesson from its holster and walked over to the bed and placed it by his bedside table. Selina grinned at him as she too placed her Webley on the bedside as the pair kicked off their shoes and boots respectively.

“Good?” asked Bruce slumping back against the pillow next to Selina.

“Yeah, good. I’d be disappointed if you weren’t the kind of man to go down shooting” said Selina with a drunken grin. The pair lay back against the pillows, their shared world spinning from the alcohol. Silence filled the room as they heard the pianist’s final encore end, to which Selina gave a soft clap.

Bruce smiled as he closed his eyes, letting his breathing even out.

“Hey Bruce” said Selina in a sleepy voice.

“Yeah?”

“Tell me a story?” she asked.

Bruce thought for a moment before grinning, “well...” he started as he began telling the story of a fugitive he had chased who was incredibly fond of riddles. He took a pause in his story and glanced over at Selina to see she had fallen asleep with a soft smile on her face. “Goodnight Selina” he whispered before closing his eyes and allowing himself to slowly drift off into a drunken sleep.

***

Deputy US Marshal Bruce Wayne woke harshly, bolting up right and immediately regretting ever moving at all. He let out a deep groan as he covered he eyes from the sun streaming in from the window. The first thing he noticed was the spot on the bed next to him was empty, as expected. He placed his hand along the covers where Selina slept, but it was cold.

With a heave of effort he swung his legs over the side of the bed and found his boots had been placed neatly ready for him to slide on. On the bedside table rested a glass of fresh water, his Smith & Wesson, along with a handwritten note and six revolver cartridges lined up in a neat row. He slipped the note from under his revolver and read with aching eyes.

_Happy Hunting Marshal_

_\- S.K_

Bruce let out a chuckle, which he too immediately regretted as he snatched up the glass of water and drank it down in one. He slipped on his boots and walked gingerly over to the hook where he had hung up his belt, hat and duster. He slowly got re-belted before fetching up his Smith & Wesson. He cracked it open with a casual flick of the catch.

Rolling his eyes at her petty joke Bruce reloaded the six cartridges back into the cylinder from where Selina had removed them. He slid his revolver back into its holster and turned to fetch his hat and duster.

He paused for a moment with his hand on the door handle when he quickly pulled his Colt Lightning from his back holster and checked Selina hadn’t unloaded that one too. He smiled when he found all six chambers still loaded.

He swung the door open and traipsed down the stairs into the saloon. Bruce reached into his pocket and pulled out a small silver pocketwatch; 11.40.

“Glass of water?” asked the saloonkeeper with a smirk.

“Glass of water” agreed Bruce as he leaned heavily on the bar top. The saloonkeeper poured him a tall glass of water and placed it in front of him. Once again Bruce downed the glass in one. “The lady, from yesterday? The one in black. What time did she leave?” asked Bruce.

“The widower?” said the saloonkeeper with a smug grin. “Wouldn’t have been a moment past nine when she tore out’ta here. She lighten your wallet Marshal?”

“Probably” said Bruce distracted. “Haven’t checked” he said slapping his room key on the bar and turning to the door and walking out into the mid-day sun leaving a baffled saloonkeeper standing there.

Bruce walked around the side of the saloon to the coral and found the younger man he’d paid to care for his horse the day before.

“Hey mister” said the younger man, “ya after yer horse?”

“Mhm” muttered Bruce checking his wallet. He rolled his eyes after counting his money that precisely half of it was missing.

“Ya want me to go get it fer ya?” asked the younger man.

“Please” said Bruce shaking his head at the second dumb question the young man had asked. He pocketed his wallet and mounted his horse and swiftly began riding the trail from Yonder eastwards. Selina Kyle wouldn’t be fleeing him, she would be going after her original target and the only reason she was in Yonder, a stagecoach carrying the wages to a C.W Mining Company operation the next county over would be passing through Sagebrush Pass once a week.

If Selina was targeting anything in this area, it would be that stagecoach. Bruce unstrapped the leather flap and drew out his Winchester Repeating Rifle from its holster on his horse. He slid the lever down halfway and checked the cartridge was loaded.

Satisfied he holstered the rifle and continued riding harder, he could almost taste the excitement at seeing Selina Kyle again as he rode.

***

As soon as Selina made camp for the evening she hurried to change out of her Widows Outfit. As useful as it was for going overlooked in towns, it certainly drew attention and was not at all practical for horseback.

She changed into some more practical trousers and dark blouse. Finally putting on a hat and stretching out, Selina felt more comfortable than she had all day. Well, except perhaps from when she woke up holding Bruce, her cheek resting on his shoulder.

She smiled to herself as she bundled the Widows clothes away and put it along with her saddle. Tomorrow at Sagebrush Pass, she’d relieve that stagecoach of its monies and perhaps if she was very lucky the handsome Marshal might chase her across another half dozen counties.

Quickly reheating some food from a tincan she was at ease with herself in the wilds. Selina leaned back, propped up on her saddle and stared up at the stars, twinkling in the heavens above. Nearby she could hear her horse shuffling about comfortably. She ate; cleaned up and made ready for the morning with a precision she had become accustomed when planning a robbery.

As she closed her eyes, she imagined the face of the man currently pursuing her. She remembered the sad hollowness in his eyes when she goaded him into telling her about the tragedy of his family. She remembered the smile he gave her when she would tease him, the way his smile reached his eyes. She remembered the deep comfortable way his laugh could fill the space between them. 

Selina let a smile fill her lips as she remembered the peaceful expression on his face as he slept. She sighed, leaning back into the saddle and allowed herself the indulgence of imagining a night with Bruce where no Wanted Poster or revolvers were involved. With these thoughts she slowly drifted into a dream-filled sleep only to wake late into the deep night, the fire now burned down to embers.

Immediately Selina’s whole body went into alert, as a sudden jolt of adrenaline rocked through her. The night felt still, but the moon wasn’t giving off enough light to see far into the darkness. Selina rolled slowly sideways, pretending to be asleep as she reached for the grip of her Webley; she’d spent far enough time alone in the wilds to trust her instincts.

She slowly tucked up her leg and slid her stiletto blade from his sheath. She felt her heart hammering in her chest at an even gallop, but she took a steadying breath trying to listen to the darkness around her.

Over the sound of her heartbeat pounding in her ears she heard snort of a horse not too far way; far too far to be her own horse sleeping nearby.

Out of the darkness came a voice; “You can’t stop pretending to sleep Selina” – it was Bruce Wayne’s voice.

In an instant Selina snapped up pointing her Webley into the darkness where the voice came from. With a kick she snuffed out the last remains of her fire as she squinted into the dark.

“It won’t do you any good Selina” called Bruce, “Your sixgun it out-ranged.” In the distance she heard the distinctive sound of a rifle being cocked.

“Why haven’t you shot yet then?” called back Selina only to be met with silence for what felt like minutes.

“Bruce?” she called again.

“You were mumbling my name in your sleep” he called back; she scowled as she heard the amusement in his voice.

“I was having a nightmare where this evil Marshal keeps sneaking up on me when I’m sleeping!” called out Selina, her face heating.

“Deputy Marshal” she heard him call back with a snort. Silence filled the air again as Selina slowly slid onto her belly, keeping her head low.

“How did you find me?” asked Selina realization dawning, “you knew I was going to hit the stagecoach.”

The darkness didn’t reply as she tried to see if she could catch of sight of Bruce’s silhouette.

“You really did your research didn’t you!” called out Selina mildly impressed. No reply, yet again. “Bruce?”

“Right here” he said softly, crouched behind her. She turned to see him with his Smith & Wesson drawn, pointing at her wearing a grin on his face she could only describe as cheeky.

Selina spun and fired her Webley as Bruce dove forwards kicking the revolver from her hand into the darkness, the bullet bouncing off into the dark. Undeterred she lunged forward with her stiletto blade only for Bruce to bat it aside with his revolver. Twisting her hand at the last second she felt her blade cut flesh and Bruce’s Smith & Wesson fell to the ground.

With his un-cut hand Bruce grabbed at her wrist as she lunged again, a wide grin on her face. With a sweep of his inner foot Bruce swept Selina to the ground pinning her as he knelt over her hips. He felt her legs kicking at the ground for leverage as she flicked her blade to her un-pinned hand and thrust out towards Bruce’s throat.

Bruce blocked aside her stab with his elbow, the blade just sinking into the flesh in his shoulder. With a wince of pain Bruce growled and grabbed the offending wrist, pinning it to the ground above her head. He felt her stop struggling as both her wrists were pinned above her head. 

“So... truce?” asked Selina with a smile.

“How do you figure that?” asked Bruce.

“Looks like I’ve got you right where I want you” said Selina before leaning up and pressing a kiss to Bruce’s lips shocking him. Bruce felt his brain racing as Selina kissed him deeply with warmth, before he felt his brain racing again as Selina pulled back and headbutted him with a warm affectionate grin.

Bruce groaned as he rolled to the side released Selina. “Really?!” he asked, his voice filled with annoyance.

“Don’t be such a baby” said Selina smirking rolling to her knees. “Let me see that” she said reaching for wound she’d just stabbed into Bruce’s shoulder.

As her fingertips touched the blade, Bruce’s hand slipped his Colt Lightning from his back holster and pressed it into Selina’s side.

“Oh, put it away” she said rolling her eyes as she climbed into Bruce’s lap and examined the wound. Bruce stared at her in shock as she rolled her eyes at him with a grin. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Not even slightly” replied Bruce with a soft smile.

Ignoring the slight pang she felt at Bruce’s entirely justified words, Selina went about the business of examining the stab wound she had just inflicted him with. “I only caught the flesh” said Selina, “if you get a fire going I’ll get it all sewn up.”

Bruce looked at her incredulously. Seeing the look Selina rolled her eyes and leaned in for a soft kiss, pressing her lips to his. She felt his Colt lowering and being slid back into its holster. Selina let out a deep breath she had been holding and she broke the kiss and pressed her forehead to Bruce’s.

“Sorry I stabbed you” whispered Selina.

A paused passed between them before Bruce opened his mouth to reply; “Sorry I woke you” he said softly.

Selina stood up and went over to her saddlebag and pulled out a sewing kit as Bruce went about reconstructing the fire.

“Where’s your horse?” asked Selina as she put on her gunbelt and fished up her Webley out of the dirt, holstering it.

“About a hundred yards that w—“ said Bruce letting out a sharp hiss of pain as he went to gesture with his wounded arm. “That way” he finished pointing with his good arm.

As Bruce got the fire going Selina went and fetched his horse, finding its lead tied to a log exactly where he said it would be. In the light of the fire Selina went to work, cutting open Bruce’s shirt and removing the blade. The pair worked in silence as she sewed up the wound with a practiced ease and placed some cotton wadding over the wound.

Eventually Selina finished up and washed her hands with some water from her canteen before sitting back on the ground next to Bruce.

“So am I under arrest Marshal?” she asked.

“Do you feel under arrest Selina?” asked Bruce staring at her.

“Why didn’t you just shoot me from a distance when you could have?” asked Selina, “you had to know I was gonna fight back with everything I had.”

Bruce remained silent as he stared into the flickering flames. Slowly he turned from the flames and stared at her. His eyes roamed over her face; the way the shadows of the fire flickered and cast shadows on her face seemed to mesmerise him. Slowly he reached out with his arm and ran his fingers through her bushy hair.

“Can I kiss you Selina?” asked Bruce, his voice uneven.

In a moment of stark contrast she watched all the differences in him compared to their standoff in the saloon. His hand had a slight shake, and she could see the pulse hammering in his neck.

“Uhuh” said Selina nodding as she leaned in a pressed her lips harshly to his. The pair kissed deeply as Selina swung her leg over and climbed onto Bruce’s lap. She felt his hands winding into her hair as she leaned into his warmth. His lips felt soft and tender to her in a way that made her head spin far more than any bottle of cheap whiskey.

Bruce ran his hands through her hair, enjoying the silken feel as he slowly gripped her around the middle and pulled her firmly against himself. The twinge of pain from his shoulder barely registered to him as he lost himself in the arms of the elusive Selina Kyle.

Slowly the couples lips parted and they shared a relieved laugh as though all the tension that had been lain between them since they both pulled guns on one another in that saloon melted away.

The pair shuffled awkwardly along the dirt to Selina’s ground mat. Along the way Selina scooped up Bruce’s Smith & Wesson and laid it on the saddlebag, next to which she placed her own Webley. Bruce pressed a kiss to Selina’s cheek before he laid back against her saddle.

“What are we going to do in the morning” said Selina, the sobering reality of the morning dawning on her.

“I’ve got an idea” muttered Bruce pulling her in for a soft kiss before tucking her against his chest.

“Good” said Selina nodding as she let herself sink into Bruce’s body, the tension leaving her own body as she fell into a deeper sleep than she’d had in years. Bruce circled his arms around Selina tighter has he closed his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 1 of 2. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy my weird Western fixation right now.


End file.
